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OTHER   POEMS 


BENJAMIN   R.  BULKELEY 


tcility 


THE  SHIFTING  WIND 


The  Shifting  Wind 

gf 

Other   Poems 


by 
Benjamin  Reynolds  Bulkeley 


CHICAGO:  MDCCCXCV 


COPYRIGHTED   BY 

B.   R.  BULKELEY 

MDCCCXCV 


A  NUMBER  OF  THESE  POEMS  HAVE  BEEN 
PUBLISHED  BEFORE  IN  VARIOUS  PERIOD- 
ICALS. THE  AUTHOR  WOULD  MAKE 
ESPECIAL  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT  TO  MESSRS. 
HARPER  AND  BROTHERS  FOR  PERMISSION 
TO  REPRINT  THE  SONNET  "LOVE  THE 
CROWN  OF  CREATION,"  WHICH  APPEARED 
IN  HARPER'S  MONTHLY  FOR  NOVEMBER, 
1889. 


ERRATA. 

FOR  "ONE"  READ  "SONG"  IN  LINE  2 

PAGE  l6. 
FOR  "AUGHT"  READ  "OUGHT"  INLINE 

7  PAGE  36. 


The  Shifting  Wind 


THE  SHIFTING  WIND 

Hark !  now  the  fickle  wind  has  turned 

And  calleth  loudly  to  my  fire  ; 
And  through  the  gloomy  chimney-place 

Summons  the  tongues  of  flame  the  higher. 

And  now  responsive  shadows  play 
And  dance  about  the  lonely  room 

Until  it  seems  that  joy  alone 

Could  habit  here  instead  of  gloom. 

Oh  !  yes,  the  winds  have  turned  about 
And  now  are  chasing  from  the  west; 

But  oh !  that  Fortune's  storm  could  change 
The  tides  within  this  troubled  breast. 

Cambridge,  April  14, 1882. 


Sowing  and  Reaping 


SOWING    AND  REAPING 

"One  soweth,  and  another  reapeth." — John  4:37. 

Surely  one  man  soweth 

While  another  reaps ; 
And  the  mother  waketh 

While  the  baby  sleeps. 

Each  one  finds  a  harvest 
Which  he  never  sowed  ; 

Each  one  bearing  burdens 
Lifts  another's  load. 

Every  one  is  reaper 

From  some  distant  seed ; 

Every  one  is  sower 
For  another's  need. 

This  is  law  and  gospel  ! 

Sweet  it  is  to  find 
When  the  sowers  perish 

Reapers  come  behind. 
2 


Sowing  and  Reaping 

Praise  the  God  of  Harvest: 
What  is  wrought  in  tears 

Bringeth  some  one  blessings 
In  the  mystic  years. 

Praise  the  God  of  Harvest 
That  another  reaps; 

So  the  labor  fails  not 
When  the  sower  sleeps. 

Concord,  Mass.,  November  IQ,  1882. 


We  Two 


WE   TWO 

We  sat  beside  the  moonlit  lake, 

My  cherished  friend  and  I ; 
No  sound  our  converse  sweet  did  break, 

No  other  soul  was  nigh. 

The  burning  day  had  given  place 

To  evening  cool  and  fair, 
And  all  things  seemed  our  hearts  to  bless 

The  while  we  lingered  there. 

We  turned  from  burdens  of  the  day  — 

I  know  not  hers,  but  mine 
Were  those  but  seldom  stayed  away, 

A  weary  daily  line. 

We  turned  from  burdens  of  the  day 

And  dwelt  that  while  apart 
From  stiff  society  to  say 

The  promptings  of  the  heart. 

4 


We  Two 

So  there  the  truest  friendship  threw 

Far  off  the  formal  cloak  ; 
Nor  was  there  empty  thought  we  knew 

Nor  empty  word  we  spoke. 

We  looked  into  each  other's  hearts 
And  spake  our  meanings  whole, 

And,  when  some  deeper  theme  would  start, 
We  talked  from  soul  to  soul. 

It  was  not  love,  'twas  friendship  pure 
That  bound  our  feelings  then  — 

A  friendship  which  will  rest  secure 
Should  we  ne'er  meet  again. 

Such  friendship  ne'er  will  find  alloy 

In  fortune's  loss  or  gain  — 
If  one  but  tread  the  hills  of  joy, 

The  other  vales  of  pain. 

I  know  not  if  again  may  we 

That  lakeward  walk  retrace, 
Or  if  in  life  we  e'er  may  see 

Again  each  other's  face, 


We  Two 

For  now  our  ways  are  sundered  far, 
Nor  know  I  where  may  fall 

The  radiance  of  my  fortune's  star, 
Or  if  it  shine  at  all. 

I  only  hope  there  may  return 
Some  time  such  blessed  spell ; 

And  toward  such  hour  I  fondly  yearn 
With  wish  I  scarce  may  tell. 

We  sat  beside  the  moonlit  lake, 
My  cherished  friend  and  I — 

No  lot  so  hard  can  hap  to  break 
That  memory  till  I  die ! 

Cambridge,  October  g,  1879. 


Blossoms 


BLOSSOMS 

By  my  window  there  stands  a  tender  tree: 
Last  night  it  blossomed  so  fair ; 

And  to  my  couch  its  perfume,  free, 
Was  brought  by  the  evening  air. 

So  it  came  in  the  hush  of  yesternight, 
The  first  faint  sense  of  my  love ; 

And  I  said :  "  Can  it  be  that  the  longed-for  light 
Has  dropped  from  the  urns  above  ?  " 

From  sleep  I  turned  to  the  starry  sky 

And  craved  to  know  if  a  ray, 
Newborn,  had  kindled  another's  eye 

As  restless  as  mine  for  the  day. 

And  I  said:  "I  will  leave  this  anxious  thought, 
So  sudden  and  strange  it  seems  ; 

I'll  wait  and  see  if  my  lady  be  caught 
In  the  tell-tale  thread  of  my  dreams." 


Blossoms 

And  now  the  blossoms  that  burst  in  the  night 
Lie  fragrant  and  faint  on  the  ground  ; 

And  I  shut  them  in  memory's  casket  tight, 
But  the  fruitage  will  never  be  found. 

Cambridge,  April  27, 1882. 


Song 


SONG 

I  hate  to  have  the  summer  come 
Because  it  brings  not  thee ; 

The  flowers  that  spring  about  my  home 
Will  whisper  woes  for  me. 

The  rose  will  mock  thy  beauty's  blush, 
The  birds  thy  heavenly  cheer ; 

And  Nature's  song,  or  Nature's  hush 
Will  say  thou  art  not  here. 

Oh!  would  the  winter  might  abide 
With  naught  to  liken  thee ; 

So  I  within  its  tomb  might  hide, 
Warmed  by  thy  memory. 

Cambridge,  May  4, 1882. 


God  in  the  Calling 


GOD  IN  THE  CALLING 

O,  the  work  I  have  chosen  delights  my  soul 

Beyond  all  other  employ ; 
And  I  linger  in  thought  on  its  far-shining 
goal, 

And  nothing  my  peace  can  destroy. 

But  if  God  should  choose  Him  to  take  away 
The  strength  which  my  life  hath  blessed, 

Should  I  ply  my  new  calling  gladly  each  day 
As  surely  for  me  the  best  ? 

Chicago,  April  S,  7893. 


10 


The  Saddest  of  Thoughts 


THE   SADDEST   OF 
THOUGHTS 

The  saddest  thought  that  ever  found  its  way 
Into  the  curious  chambers  of  the  mind 
Is,  that  to  close  the  latest  earthly  day 
Sums  all  of  life;  that  all  is  final,  blind 
Dispose  of  elements,  nor  shall  we  find 
Rest  other  than  the  dusty  remnants  have 
Which    were  our  bodies  and  the  soul  en- 
shrined, 

Then  to  be  parted  like  the  unmeaning  wave — 
Unfriendly  atoms  all,  forth  wandering  from 
the  grave. 

Chicago,  November  jo,  1878. 


II 


Waiting 


WAITING 

She  waiteth  far  beyond  my  sight, 
The  soul  that's  meant  for  me ; 
I  see  her  face 
Is  gentlest  grace, 
And  sheds  around  a  tender  light, 
But  more  I  cannot  see. 

She  came  erewhile  to  bless  my  dream. 
And  whispered  I  must  wait ; 
But  then  I  woke 
Just  as  she  spoke ; 

I  turned  to  catch  the  vision's  gleam, 
But  then  it  was  too  late. 

And  now  in  sleep  she  comes  again 
To  let  me  mark  her  face, 
But  lingers  far, 
Like  Fortune's  star, 
Beyond  the  circle  of  my  pain 
She  will  some  time  displace. 
12 


Waiting 

Nor  eye  nor  ear  nor  any  sense 
Of  mine  hath  found  her  out ; 
And  yet  those  eyes, 
O,  how  I  prize ! 
Discovered  by  a  faith  intense, 
Will  bring  the  time  about. 

She  dwelleth  somewhere  in  the  light 
Of  a  most  homelike  heaven, 
Nor  any  love 
Save  that  above, 

Which  she  believes  for  all  is  right, 
To  her  was  ever  given. 

She  waiteth,  yet  'tis  I  who  wait, 
She  liveth  only  free ; 

Nor  may  I  seem 
Part  of  her  dream; 
And  yet  some  time  or  soon  or  late 
She'll  come  and  speak  to  me. 

Some  time  she'll  come  to  lift  my  head 
As  once  she  seemed  in  sleep, 
And  bid  me  rise 
And  see  those  eyes, 

13 


Waiting 

Not  fading  when  the  word  is  said, 
My  treasure  e'er  to  keep. 

O,  how  they  seem  to  guard  my  days 
Until  she  surely  come! 

Those  goddess  eyes 
My  soul  doth  prize, 
Until  I  leave  these  weary  ways 
And  take  her  to  my  home. 

I  know  she  waits,  that  other  soul. 
Of  all  for  me  the  best ; 

That  sweet  unknown 
So  precious  grown, 
Some  time  will  make  this  being  whole 
Some  time  will  end  my  quest. 

But  now  I  search  adown  the  years 
That  only  face  to  see 

Whose  living  beam 
Will  wake  my  dream  : 
And  I  through  mist  of  joyous  tears 
Shall  know  she  looks  on  me ! 

Cambridge,  November  28, 1881. 


Love's  Flower 


LOVE'S  FLOWER 

My  love  was  no  sudden-blooming  flower 
That  burst  from  the  darkness  of  night, 

Rejoicing  in  a  perfect  power 
To  be  and  live  in  the  light. 

For  when  it  felt  in  the  early  days 

The  warmth  of  thy  summoning  beam, 

It  hardly  dared  to  turn  away 

From  its  dark  and  narrow  dream. 

And  when  thy  smile  first  fell  on  my  heart 

It  could  not  leap  to  thy  kiss ; 
I  could  not  claim  that  light  for  my  part 

Which  the  wide  world  must  not  miss. 

So  I  dared  not  think  it  was  meant  for  me, 
And  my  life  was  timid  and  slow; 

But  love  hath  now  no  life  but  in  thee, 
And  asketh  none  other  to  know. 

Cambridge,  April,  1882. 

15 


The  Song  and  the  Deed 


THE  SONG  AND  THE  DEED 

There  was  never  a  song  that  was  sung  by  thee, 
But  a  sweeter  one  was  meant  to  be. 

There  was  never  a  deed   that   was  grandly 

done, 
But  a  greater  was  meant  by  some  earnest  one. 

For  the  sweetest  voice  can  never  impart 
The  song  that  trembles  within  the  heart. 

And  the  brain  and  hand  can  never  quite  do 
The  thing  that  the  soul  has  fondly  in  view. 

And  hence  are  the  tears  and  the  burdens  of 

pain, 
For  the  shining  goals  are  never  to  gain. 


16 


The  Song  and  the  Deed 

And  the  real  song  is  ne'er  heard  by  man, 
Nor  the  work  ever  done  for  which  we  plan. 

But  enough,  that  a  God  can  hear  and  see 
The  song  and  the  deed  that  were  meant  to  be! 

Chicago,  February  19,  1895. 


Loss 


LOSS 

A  little  disc  of  loss 

Doth  hang  before  the  eye 
And  cast  its  sad  eclipse  across 

The  broad  and  beauteous  sky. 

And  the  creation  vast, 
Is  not  as  'twas  before  — 

As  if  its  glory  all  had  passed 
And  beauty  were  no  more. 

Yet  there  it  beams  as  broad  — 
Its  speech  is  there  to  learn; 

And  in  the  loss,  a  waiting  God 
Giveth  new  joy  to  earn! 

Cambridge,  October  21,  1879. 


18 


Startling 


STARTLING 

My  love,  I  loved  another  maid, 
And  yet  to  you  I  am  true ; 

I  loved  her  as  she  passed  the  street, 
And  her  dream  like  image  flew ; 

I  loved  that  other  maid,  my  love, 
Because  methought  it  was  you  ! 

Cambridge,  June  14, 1892. 


To  Lake  Michigan 


TO    LAKE   MICHIGAN 

Here  have  I  been  full  oft  before, 
And  spent  the  early  evening  hour, 

And  heard  the  waters'  muffled  roar, 
And  felt  the  searching  of  their  power. 

To  thee,  fair  Lake,  I  turn  again 

To  breathe  once  more  thy  sweetened  breath, 
And  catch  such  meaning  from  thy  strain 

As  may  go  with  me  till  my  death. 

For  nears  the  time  when  we  must  part  ; 

And  thou  hast  been  a  friend  to  me, 
And  spoken  sweetly  to  my  heart, 

And  whispered  some  deep  liberty, 

What  time  I  left  my  daily  cares 
And  felt  a  portion  of  thy  peace, 

Which  stole  upon  me  unawares 
And  gave  me  undeserved  release. 


To  Lake  Michigan 

Oh!  may  thy  soothing  spell  return 
When  I  am  sundered  far  away  ; 

And  may  such  evening  rapture  yearn 
After  the  travails  of  the  day  — 

Come  and  remind  in  after  years 
How  once  I  used  to  dream  of  thee, 

And  saw  the  furthering  of  my  tears 
In  what  my  lot  was  bound  to  be. 

Oh,  leastwise,  let  me  not  forget 

How,  when  my  days  did  vainly  glide, 

I  found  some  promptings  in  thee  yet 
And  felt  me  nobler  at  thy  side. 


Chicago,  July  32, 


21 


Lost  Opportunity 


LOST  OPPORTUNITY 

I  stood  beside  an  open  gate 

Which  showed  beyond  field  after  field 
Wherein  did  richest  pastures  wait, 

Sure-scented  though  but  half-revealed. 

I  thought  me  then  to  enter  there, 
Till  by  some  outer  calling  led  ; 

I  turned  my  wandering  otherwhere 
And  found  but  weariness  instead. 

And  though  some  gates  of  promise  may 
Ope  often  on  my  sight  again, 

There  never  greets  me  by  the  way, 
Such  vista  as  invited  then! 

Chicago,  June  25, 1879. 


22 


The  Message  of  Jesus 


THE   MESSAGE  OF  JESUS 

Said  Jesus,  when  he  came  to  me, 
"I  have  no  worldly  store  to  give ; 

I  only  came  that  you  might  see 
The  better  how  to  live. 

"  I  point  where  living  waters  flow, 
Far  wandering  from  the  paths  of  sin  ; 

Nor  house,  nor  lands — I  only  show 
Immortal  wealth  within." 

Said  Jesus  when  his  gift  I  knew  : 
"  Behold,  I  am  the  Way  to  live ; 

Tell  freely  as  I  told  it  you  : 
I  gave  that  you  might  give." 

Valatic,  N.  Y. 


Functions 


FUNCTIONS 

I  said,  in  a  sunny-hearted  time, 

"No  one  there  lives  but  hath  somewhat  of 

good ! " 
Beautiful  saying  to  fit  into  rhyme  — 

Beautiful  message,  but  half  understood. 

Then  the  years  came  along  with  stealthy  tread 
And  slowly  their  fingers  whitened  my  hair, 

While  my  motto  became  as  one  of  the  dead, 
Buried  amidst  my  sorrows  and  care. 

And  when  I  recalled  it,  I  thought  me  so  wise 
That  I  said :  "The  thought  is  but  fancy  of 
youth; 

For  many  a  soul  is  worthless  and  dies, 

Void  of  all  prophet — I  seek  but  the  truth." 


24 


Functions 

But  then  I  grew  weary  and  longed  for  repose, 
And  sought  for  the  passionless  peace  of  the 

tomb, 
Till  I  seemed  all  unuseful  and  lone,  and  I 

chose 
To  sink  in  the  tide  of  oblivion's  gloom. 

Then  one  came  to  love  me,  and  light  burst 
around, 

And  I  knew  all  are  useful  or  here  or  above; 
God  seeth  the  sparrow  that  falls  to  the  ground, 

And  every  soul  merits  another  soul's  love. 

Concord,  August  2, 1882. 


Rest 


REST 

Breathed  never  fairer  evening  spell 
Than  broods  around  me  at  this  hour: 

Nor  ever  Nature's  parts  so  well 
Blent  into  one  entrancing  power. 

And  ever  doth  a  gentle  breeze 

Slow  wander  o'er  the  water's  breast, 

With  message  from  the  outer  seas 
That  all  around  is  sweetest  rest. 

Yes,  peace  is  reigning  everywhere 
But  in  the  central  soul,  which  sings 

And  finds  for  its  unrest  and  care 
No  healing  in  the  evening's  wings. 

But,  somehow,  seem  the  waves  to  say, 
The  while  they  sing  the  evening  psalm, 

That  some  time  there  will  come  a  day 
When  this  worn  life  will  be  as  calm. 

Chicago,  June  21,  1879. 

26 


My  Debts 


MY   DEBTS 

The  tender  song  of  passing  bird 
Broke  in  upon  my  silence  lone, 

And  something  in  its  strain  I  heard 
Revealed  a  joy  before  unknown. 

Methought,  as  soon  it  flew  away, 

Its  song  I  never  could  repay. 

Fain  had  I  paid  that  sudden  debt, 
And  fed  the  bird  and  kept  it  warm, 

And  chosen  it  to  be  my  pet 

And  sheltered  it  from  every  storm ; 

But  fell  from  its  enraptured  song 

No  hint  of  where  it  might  belong. 

But  from  its  cadence  sweet  there  fell 
One  strain  had  soothed  me  into  rest. 

Had  it  not  whispered  just  as  well, 
My  wish  could  never  reach  its  nest, 

To  add  one  comfort  to  its  home 

Or  give  one  errand  less  to  roam. 
27 


My  Debts 

So  many  a  life  its  message  sweet 
Drops  in  upon  my  weary  way  — 

Some  whisper  I  can  ne'er  repeat, 
A  joy  I  never  can  repay. 

Like  music,  of  a  tender  strain, 

That  soothes,  and  quick  is  gone  again. 

Yes,  from  the  world  on  every  side 
Soft  messages  are  borne  to  me 

Like  music  caught  on  mystic  tide, 

That  swells  from  Life's  mysterious  sea. 

Though  hearing  much,  I  listen  well, 

I  hear  what  I  can  never  tell. 

Great  God !  how  can  I  e'er  repay 
The  gift  unearned  that  angels  bring, 

That  through  the  noise  of  every  day 
Upon  me  breathe  their  offering  — 

The  privilege  of  now  and  here 

To  drink  the  music  of  the  sphere  ? 


28 


My  Debts 

But  more  and  more  they  come  and  sing 
The  songs  that  overswell  my  debt; 

And  more  and  more  their  burdens  bring 
While  giving  ne'er,  I  ever  get. 

This  debt,  unpaid,  will,  by  and  by, 

Imprison  me  until  I  die. 

Cambridge,  January,  2881. 


29 


Love,  the  Crown  of  Creation 


LOVE,  THE  CROWN  OF 
CREATION 

How    matchless  was  Creation's  march  when 

man, 
Last  summoned,  stepped  into  the  foremost 

place 

And  looked  the  lower  orders  in  the  face, 
His  godlike  brow  bespeaking  him  the  van! 
How  vast  God's  skill,  if  there  had  ceased  the 

plan 

With  that  lone  model  of  the  human  race! 
His  Maker's  image,  set  in  perfect  grace, 
With  promise  of  the  endless  things  he  can! 
But  'twas  not  meet  that  man  should  be  alone 
In  that  supremacy,  with  nought  to  prove  — 
No  sacrifice,  no  brotherhood  to  own, 
No  tenderness  to  turn  his  thoughts  above  : 
Creation  lacked  its  crown  until  that  throne 
Was  tremulous  unto  the  touch  of  Love. 

1882. 

3° 


Death's  Mystery 


DEATH'S  MYSTERY 

How  far,  I  wonder,  have  my  dear  ones  fled 
Into  the  regions  hidden  from  my  sight 
Helping  to  people  in  the  realms  of  light, 
With  all  the  countless  spirits  of  the  dead, 
A  mighty  world,  whereof  the  prophet  said 
O'er  its  fair  landscape  cometh  never  night; 
Nor   sun    nor   moon    shall   make  its  valleys 

bright, 

For  God  himself  shall  be  the  Light  instead  ? 
How  far,  I  wonder,  have  my  dear  ones  gone  ? 
And  yet  I  must  not  wonder,  but  abide 
God's  purposes  till  they  be  fuller  grown, 
And  in  the  mystery  His  wisdom  guide 
My  life  to  waken  in  the  vast  Unknown 
And  find  its  way  to  Love's  familiar  side. 

April,  2889. 

31 


Harmony 


HARMONY 

As  in  the  swelling  of  some  chorus  sweet, 
Which,  many-voiced,  pours  full  upon  the  ear 
Its  flood  of  consonance,  we  seem  to  hear 
But  the  fine  blending  where  the  voices  meet, 
Nor  reck  if  in  our  rapture  so  replete 
We  miss  the  several  voice,  which  fain  would 

near 

Its  end  of  excellence  and  gain  the  cheer 
That  the  well-doing  of  its  part  may  greet: 
So  in  the  mystic  harmony  of  life 
Makes  each  one  melody,  though  noisy  days 
Unfit  his  hearing;  and  beyond  the  strife 
The  ear  of  God  detects  the  song  we  raise, 
And  waits  till  through  the  universe  is  rife 
The  glorious  climax  of  our  Maker's  praise. 

Chicago,  March  8, 1879. 


Pity  Not  the  Dead 


PITY  NOT  THE  DEAD 

O  visit  not  the  kingdom  of  the  dead 
With  one  regret  for  them,  for  all  is  gain 
That  comes  in  surest  meed  of  joy  or  pain 
And  all  that  takes  inevitable  stead 
Of  this  short  life ;  O  pity  not  the  dead, 
So  silent  now  in  death,  the  quiet  brain 
Urging  no  more  endeavors  that  are  vain, 
And  soon  to  blend  it  with  its  earthly  bed. 
Now  doth  the  soul  press  forward  its  career, 
With  not  a  step  but  doth  for  progress  count ; 
And  every  wrong  and  hardship  suffered  here 
Helps  on  the  freedom  that  doth  ever  mount 
The  slope  of  heavenly  growth  without  a  fear, 
And  every  grade  hath  its  refreshing  fount. 

Chicago,  March  27, 1895. 


33 


One  Master 


ONE  MASTER 

A  Voice  came  wafted  to  me  from  the  sea, 
Burdened  with  deep  reproof  and  touched  with 

pain, 

And  as  I  turned  me  to  the  land  again 
The  self-same  message  echoed  unto  me : 
"What  part,  O  wayward  soul,  have  I  in  thee? 
One  purpose  only  in  the  world  doth  reign, 
One  mighty  will,  and  yet  thou  dost  in  vain 
Chase  forth  and  yon,  as  if  some  fragment,  free 
To  choose  thy  life  apart.     Oh,  rather  find 
Thy  freedom  in  My  will,  and  ever  shun 
The  phantom  of  thy  selfishness  and  bind 
Thy  conscious  life  to  Mine,  no  more  to  run 
And  do  the  bidding  of  the  changing  mind. 
One  Master  thou  canst  serve,  and  only  one." 

Magnolia,  August  ij,  1889. 


34 


Tiring  of  Toys 


TIRING  OF  TOYS 

Tiring  of  toys  and  all  his  daily  glee, 
His  ruddy  face  pressing  the  window  pane, 
A  little  boy  with  health  in  every  vein 
Looks  out  upon  the  winter  wild  and  free, 
And  gazes  through  the  whitening  storms  to 

see 

If  he  who  bringeth  Christmas  gifts  again, 
Perchance  is  stealing  o'er  the  dusky  plain 
To  seek  the  fireside  of  his  nursery. 
E'en  more  the  soul  whom  deeper  weariness 
Turns  from  the  play  of  life,  to  wonder  why 
It  satisfieth  not  amid  the  press 
Of  problems,  peers  into  the  baffling  sky, 
If  haply  One  who  more  than  life  can  bless 
May  note  his  humble  window  passing  by. 

Cambridge,  December  75, 1880. 
35 


Immanuel 


IMMANUEL 

I  came  to  thee,  My  child,  when  night  was 

still, 

And  spoke  to  thee  in  thy  most  secret  thought, 
With    the   first   knowledge   of   the   struggle 

fraught 

Between  thy  baser  and  thy  purer  will ; 
I  came  to  thee  and  left  thee  not  until 
The  path  was  clear  whereof  My  wisdom 

taught ; 

And  brooding  o'er  thee,  the  Eternal  Aught, 
A  sweet  submission  came  thy  soul  to  fill. 
And  as  My  spirit  leaned  upon  thee  then, 
Thou  knew'st  My  name  was  Duty  and  My 

way 

Looked  not  unto  expedience  of  men. 
Still  know,  when  Duty  turns  to  Love,  that  day 
That   I  have  come   and   supped   with    thee 

again, 
And  but  thyself  can  bid  Me  stranger  stay. 

36 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY  *  SONS 
COMPANY,  AT  THE  LAKESIDE  PRESS, 
CHICAGO,  UNDER  THE  DIRECTION 
OF  STONE  &  KIMBALL,  MDCCCXCV 


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